Conductor's Notes 1/30/2010
It is often our pleasure to offer a program of Russian music. Sergei Rachmaninov (1873-1943), renowned pianist, conductor, and composer, carried Russian late-romantic style into the 20th century. Political events forced him to flee his motherland in 1917 but he never lost his love for his native soil or his “Russian manner.” While in Switzerland in the summer of 1934 he composed this Rhapsody on the last of Nicoḷ Paganini’s 24 Caprices, Op. 1. (This caprice has provided material for dozens of composers!) In the Rhapsody’s 24 variations we hear Rachmaninov at the height of his compositional powers. The form is taut and the orchestration is economical, unlike the lush extravagance which characterizes his early work. We also hear the Dies irae, the chant Sequence from the Requiem Mass, a “signature” of Rachmaninov that appears in many of his works. The emotional heart of the work is variation 18, where the theme is turned upside down! The final variation drives headlong toward the cadence and certain cataclysm but then yields to a wonderfully understated, tongue-in-cheek conclusion. Rachmaninov premiered Rhapsody in November of 1934 with the Philadelphia Orchestra under the direction of Leopold Stokowski. We are pleased to have Rickie Malgren as our student soloist this afternoon.
Like Rachmaninov, Sergei Prokofiev (1891-1953) was a great pianist, conductor, and composer. Unlike Rachmaninov, Prokofiev cared nothing for politics – as long as the Bolsheviks paid him to compose, he was happy to endure the restrictions the government and Josef Stalin placed on him. He consequently enjoyed more freedom to travel the world, returning to the Soviet Union in 1934 for good. When the Hitler invaded Russia in 1941, Stalin, knowing full well how powerful music was in galvanizing the people, secreted his composers to the relative safety of the Caucasus. Here, in 1944, Prokofiev composed the greatest of his seven the symphonies, the towering Fifth. Dedicated to the glory of the human spirit, this symphony also captures the essence of war and world cataclysm, of privation, loneliness, and the banality of evil. The first movement is an expansive sonata structure. Prokofiev places the dance movement second, as in the Romantic pattern. It is all helter-skelter, hustle and bustle. The third movement, the emotional center of the work, is hauntingly beautiful. It begins with a banal tune which leads to a soaring passage of loneliness and futility. We hear Morse code warning of the advancing enemy and total cataclysm. Out of the ashes the movement ends in abject loneliness. The Finale begins with nostalgic reminiscences of the first movement then moves into a raucous romp. The dash to the cadence threatens to unravel but the composer grabs the reins and drives us to a thrilling conclusion. Prokofiev somehow managed to survive Stalin’s paranoid purges (though his wife was not so fortunate). Whether coincidence, poetic justice, or tragedy, the composer died within an hour of his tormentor on March 5, 1953.